


Priceless

by Yeah_JSmith



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Age Reversal, Apprentice PI Nick, BDSM, Because Unethical Relationships Are Disgusting, Different Roles, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Judy Is An Ex-Cop, Nick and Judy Pull a Hustle, Sex Worker Judy, So I Will Never Write That, almost pure smut, everyone has fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: When Nick's friends find out that he has some secret desires, they hire a sex worker to help him experience the things he thought he would never get to do again. Things actually turn out much, much better than anyone planned.





	Priceless

**Author's Note:**

> I used to like the term "prostitute." It was in-your-face: sex workers exist, you can't ignore us, sex work won't go away. Recently I've moved on from it, partly because I'm less of a troll and partly because it's not a term that can be stolen, let's face it. As much as I wanted otherwise, the term has inherently negative connotations. This story avoids using the term that I used to use gleefully. (I still know sex workers who use it positively, but in writing I have to be more responsible.) 
> 
> This story is sex work-positive. If you don't like sex workers, fuck off. I mean, you can feel free to leave a comment telling me your thoughts, and I will say sarcastic, vaguely mean things to you in response. That is a promise. I will not erase comments here, but that may not work out so well for naysayers. Sex work is work. Deal with it.

The hotel room, Nick thought, had seen better days.

It was all he _could_ think. Not only was it a somewhat dingy room with questionable décor and the scent of smoke and sex clinging to every surface beneath equally questionable amounts of bleach and detergent, but if he thought about what was coming next, he’d get nervous. His birthday present from Ian and Finnick was a night to remember, and since it doubled as a congratulations present for getting through his apprenticeship with Kat Castleberry, the PI who’d taken him on, he knew they’d planned something extra special.

This was it. Tonight was the night. He was the luckiest fox in all of Zootopia, or he would be soon enough, because tonight was the night his dreams would come true.

It was a bit embarrassing to be so excited, because it wasn't like he'd never done this before; he'd done it more than he would be willing to admit, actually, but never with a sex worker, and never with a _bunny._ Back when he had been active, he hadn't been into bunnies, but recently all his dreams, all his nighttime fantasies, featured bunnies. Well. One bunny, in particular: his downstairs neighbor, an ex-cop who now worked as a therapist and always made time to keep him company if he happened to be lonely. It was unreal, how much headspace she had taken over in the past year and a half of the two years he'd known her; she was kind to him, and even though she was eight years older she respected him, and she had this _steel_ in her, like she could and would take you in paw, which was an attractive quality for someone like Nick, who had a serious problem with overthinking everything.

And tonight…

Mistress Dahlia (a fit but lean gray bunny whose page didn’t show anything from the neck up, but who looked _fabulous_ in a cork leather corset and garters) wasn't Judy Hopps, who probably wouldn't be caught dead in anything but her comfortable jeans and button-ups, but he could pretend.

...And now he was nervous. Great. Sure, it wasn't even close to his first time, but it _had_ been a while, and what if he failed to perform or overestimated himself or — he'd never actually met a sex worker before! What if he made a fool of himself? He was aware of all the things _not_ to say, but really, he knew himself well enough to know that if he got really into it he might call her Carrots on accident. Would he need to warn her? She had probably been called worse, because there were plenty of mammals who looked down on sex workers. But even aside from the professionals who stuck with it forever, one of Nick's smartest classmates in his one year of community college had been affiliated with an agency to put herself through school, and it was a sweet side hustle for anyone whose job paid minimum wage, so in the end, who won? Not the mammals who hated sex and probably hated fun, too.

Ah, that was better. He was no longer nervous now that he had someone to mentally make fun of. That _always_ helped.

The doorknob jigged as a key was inserted into the lock. Oh, _there_ were the nerves again. Would she be weirded out by him? He was a fox, after all, and maybe it was weird. It was weird, wasn’t it? No, she wouldn’t think it was weird, this was what she did for a living. ...Right?

His breath caught as a black high-heeled shoe appeared. Shoes were rare in Animalia, because they were uncomfortable; only professionals wore them, such as dancers and singers and firefighters. The muscular gray leg above the shoe was wrapped in black fishnet stockings and attached to garters _just_ peeking out of a ruffly red skirt, but the top was covered by the buttons of a long black London Fog, and above that…

His mouth dropped open. _“Carrots?”_

Mistress Dahlia, apparently _also_ known as Judy Hopps, made a strange squeaking noise and dropped her duffel bag in the doorway before shouting, “Nick!?”

“This is awkward,” he pointed out unhelpfully, and sat down on the bed, because, well, he’d not been through anything this ridiculous in at least a few months, so he deserved to be sitting comfortably.

“Sweet cheese and crackers,” she swore. She kicked the duffel bag out of the way, shut the door, and locked it behind her. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

“What am _I-”_ He huffed and folded his arms. “I’m supposed to be enjoying a birthday present from my weird friends. What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be entertaining a shy fox who has some kinks he’s embarrassed to talk about! How the heck did you manage to convince anyone you’re _shy?”_

“I don’t know, how did you manage to convince me you’re a therapist?”

“I never said I was a therapist,” she retorted, leaning against the door. She looked comically short next to the doorknob, but the way her leg popped out of the folds of her coat and her heel _clink_ ed against the door made certain parts of him perk up happily. Like his ears. And other places. “I said I do _self-help_ stuff. Which is true. I’ve helped lots of mammals.”

She looked defensive, and he really didn’t want her to get the wrong impression, because, well, he liked her a _lot._ So he put his paws up in front of his chest and said, “Hey, I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’m just confused. You could have told me.”

“I’m in kink. It’s a gray area,” she said quietly, but her body language opened up a little. Score one for the fox. “Sex work is fine, but _kinky_ sex work is still kind of...not _illegal,_ but not clearly defined either, so there’s some risk involved.”

He nodded with a teasing smile. “Risk of fun. How terrible.”

That made her laugh, at least. He'd always liked her laugh; it was fun and contagious. He knew she had a couple of demons in her past; after all, she was an _ex-_ cop, and there was always a story for that; but her laugh was always enthusiastic. She kicked off the door and slunk over to him, the action more fox than rabbit, and he watched her with a suddenly dry mouth as she asked, “So this is your thing, then? BDSM? You like getting beaten and tied up?”

“Yes,” he replied, and his voice cracked embarrassingly, but he recovered as a thought struck him. “Wait. It’s my thing, it’s been my thing since my first girlfriend, but...not with you.”

She paused, cocked her head, and nodded. “It’d probably be weird for you to do this transactionally with someone you know.”

“Not someone I _know,”_ he corrected, because this was actually important, “but someone I _like._ It’s probably not obvious, but I have...ugh, _feelings_ for you, and I was going to ask you out eventually, but I can’t do that if I’ve hired you, that’s gross.”

“I was going to say yes eventually,” she informed him, like it wasn’t even a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t to her. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, but I decided to let you come to me. We have fun together as friends.”

“We sure do.” Was it awkward? He was sure things were awkward. Now that he knew it wasn’t one-sided, and they were in a room together with a duffel bag full of toys, would it be totally sleazy to ask her out _now?_ On the other paw, she knew him well enough to know how he thought, so would it be misleading to _not?_ What even was the protocol for asking out your dear friend who had accidentally been hired to do naughty things to you?

Before he could make a decision, she stepped forward again and knelt between his knees. Massaging his thighs with her paws, she said, “Nick, if you’re really into this, please let me make you feel good. Not as a paying client, but as a friend. Or something more, if that’s what you’ve decided.”

He felt his heart pound at both her touch and her suggestion. “You'd still — do all that stuff to me?”

“I've wanted to for a while now, I just didn't know _you_ had the same...desires. I don't intend to waste the chance, if you'll give it to me. Plus...if you're not my client, then we can do _other_ stuff, too. Imagine yourself bound, unable to move, while I put your dick in my mouth. Or somewhere else, whichever you want. _Whatever_ you want, even if it's nothing after all.”

He had a big choice to make. This was all of his fantasies come to life, except better, because it was real. He was 26 years old, a little out of practice, and painfully interested, but he didn’t think she’d mind. The benefits seemed to outweigh the drawbacks. Except...what if it was _too_ awkward? What if they left this hotel room unable to talk to each other, and it ruined their friendship? What they already had was important to him. Too important to sacrifice for a night of passion and sensation.

He jumped a bit as her fingers smoothed his brow and she murmured, “There you go again, overthinking it. We’re attracted to each other and we like each other. If you’re worried about this messing things up, don’t be. Friends can get through anything together. And if you want me to back off-”

“Please don’t back off,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I want to see what’s in that bag.”

“Lots of fun little toys,” she promised, rubbing her thumb across his brow once more. He believed it.

* * *

It was true: being blindfolded really did make other sensations stand out. The sound of her circling behind him was intense. Nick was stripped bare, sitting backwards on the smaller chair with a large towel under him, gripping the backrest; it brought him down to the perfect height. He heard a swish behind him and flexed, but nothing came. _Oh._

This was going to be good.

Her first throw of the flogger was light; hardly a tickle, really. Nick tended to go harder on himself when he used his own cheap flogger on the inside of his thighs, but it still felt...nice. Her light, rhythmic strikes were just a warmup, anyway. He lay his head down on his crossed arms and relaxed into the sensation, humming softly. Oh, how he’d missed it.

Everything floated away. All his worries, his frustrations, and his cases seemed inconsequential. Nothing existed except Nick, Judy, and the flogger sending lines of soft fire through his body. The rhythmic strikes became a pulsing soundtrack to his blissful drift; her soft noises of exertion sounded in his ears like a harmony to his own melodious moaning. He sank into the hot song, pleasure building even in his fingers and toes, and then

three harsh strikes sent _flames_ along the skin beneath his thick fur and he whined, the agony of it managing to bypass his brain and settle right in his groin

and the rhythm built up again, this time somewhat harder than before.

She was a professional, and it showed. Every time he sank deep enough for it to be purely pleasurable, she would throw the flogger hard and fast, drawing him out of his warmth and making the whole of him pulse in time with her strikes. Judy paused to run her paw through his fur, tickling the likely marks with the soft tips of her fingers, and Nick moaned loudly. He was too far gone to be ashamed of it, but when he heard her gasp and tiny whine, it thrilled him from nose to tail-tip.

Professional, but not unaffected. He doubted she got this way with her clients, and wasn’t _that_ an ego boost.

“Would you like more before we move on,” she asked, brushing the back of his neck with her lips.

He was half-hard already, and he wanted to feel her crop on his thighs and balls before he had to stop, so he replied, “I want you to spank me, Mistress. I _need_ it.”

“Then stand up,” she commanded, pulling off the blindfold in a quick, precise movement. His eyes sank and his knees were weak when he obeyed. “Go get me something to hit you with.”

While she situated herself on the bed — he could hardly believe how different her corset made her look, accentuating her curves and allowing him to see an unusual amount of her wonderful chest fluff — he dutifully looked through her duffel bag. She had all sorts of toys in there; two crops, a leather paddle and a wooden one, some wicked-looking strap with two tongues that would flap when she swung it, another strap without tongues, a bundle of rattan, and a whippy cane that would be delightful if he were looking for heavy pain. Tonight, he wanted just enough to be ecstasy, but not the punishing type.

He preferred the more stinging kind of pain; thudding was more _tolerable_ in the moment, but a stinging implement forced him to feel every strike, and when he could rise above it, the high of subspace was more intense. He would save that scary-looking implement for next time; he wanted her paw and her crop, as they had discussed during their negotiations.

He presented the crop to her on one knee, bowing his head. When he looked up at her, she was looking at him like he was precious, and it warmed him further. How lucky was he?

“Come up on the bed,” she ordered, and he scrambled up to lie across her lap. As she massaged his rear and thighs, he took a moment to be grateful for the clean sheet that they had draped over the bedspread and pillows. He could comfortably rest his cheek by her thigh and not worry about either of them getting all of the sexually transmitted diseases that existed, and maybe a couple of undiscovered ones.

He spread his knees when she landed her first strike with her paw. Once again, she was gentle with him, hitting with a cupped paw and making sure to give him little pats as well as light spanks. After a couple of minutes of this sweet treatment, she paused to give him another rub. It felt so good to have her touching him, trailing her fingers across his cheeks, dipping below to rub at his perineum _which was wonderful_ but she didn’t spend much time on that. Instead, she began spanking again, a little harder this time, alternating with cupped strikes and flat strikes.

Nick loved a good spanking, even if he hadn’t had one in a couple of years. He didn’t let on that he was a masochist, most of the time, but every once in a while he needed a release that jerking off or even having sex couldn’t give him; self-flogging and self-spanking kept him satisfied, but not exactly pleased; this was what he needed. That it was Judy made him practically euphoric. He was already hazy from the flogging, bordering on subspace and relaxed even as the spanking began to sting, and he didn’t bother to hold back his humming and moans, because she seemed to like them. It felt good to be able to let loose. Everything felt good. He spent so much time making sure that nobody could see that things got to him. It was nice to be able to stop pretending.

Judy paused again to rub his thighs and mess up the fur there. He grinned to himself, turned his head a little, and kissed the outside of her thigh, which prompted a wriggle below him and a light smack to his rear, both of which send pleasurable sensation to his penis. She could probably feel him hard in her lap, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about her skirt.

She picked up the crop; he could tell by the way her body moved; and his whole body buzzed in anticipation. It was a shorter one with a slightly wider slapper than he was used to, good for over-the-knee spankings like this one. The first slap to his left thigh was a little spot of flames, and so was her second. He spread his knees a little wider and put his paws behind his back. She immediately held his wrists against his lower back, as he’d hoped she would do, and as she tapped the slapper against him he hummed happily. It was bliss, the way she slapped her way across, moving from his outer thigh to his inner thigh, slapping his balls a few times — _that was amazing,_ he wanted more, but she moved onto his other thigh and up to his cheeks, then moved down again, keeping the same speed but gaining a bit of force as she went.

His head fuzzed again. He was drunk off the feeling and the scent of her. The arousal he could smell was growing, as was his, especially when she _slapped and slapped_ his testicles. He whined in pure bliss and wriggled, silently begging her to keep going, and she did, and he was going to _explode_ it was so amazing so he begged, “Please stop, red, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

She stopped and he wondered vaguely why he’d done something that dumb, but the feel of her paw on his thighs was just as good. She let his paws go and he pushed himself up on his knees. He was painfully erect at this point, so much so that he was visibly twitching, but before he came, he wanted to make her feel good.

“Mistress...may I undress you?”

“You may,” she assented, “but please call me Judy now that we’re out of the scene.”

That was reasonable enough. He moved to kneel between her knees and reached for the clasps on the front of the corset, watching her face as he did so. She looked eager and something he wanted desperately to label loving. Fortunately, it was one of the faux-corsets that were more fashion than function, so it didn’t take him long to unclasp it, and she leaned forward to allow him to slide it out from behind her. God, she was gorgeous, the white and gray lines running from her chin and downward below the waist of her skirt.

He skipped that for the moment and pulled back to take her shoes off her feet, watching in fascination as her toes sprang apart. He kissed her right foot, then her left, but he wasn’t sure how well she could feel it through the fishnet stockings. He ran his paws up both legs and prompted her to shudder happily; when he reached the garters, he unhooked the stockings and pulled each one off quickly but carefully. She squirmed and her knees opened a little more when he pawed at the waist of her skirt before lifting her bodily and pulling that down along with her underwear and garter belt, leaving her as bare as he was.

He wanted her. He wanted to taste her and please her, to help her fall apart. “Mind if I use my tongue, Judy?”

“Oh, please do,” she breathed.

He ran his nose up her inner thigh and lightly scratched her hip with his paw, and she shuddered again and clutched the sheet at her sides. He pulled her down a little so that her head was square on the pillow before licking hesitantly at her vulva. Bunny anatomy was unfamiliar, but all he had to do was watch her reactions and make sure to keep doing the things that elicited the most pleasure. Good sex always involved plenty of observation.

Her leg jerked when he ran the tip of his tongue over a small nub. Not so different to vixens, clearly. While Nick massaged her hips and thighs, he alternated attention between her labia and her clitoris, noting every jump and twitch, every moan and cry of pleasure. She liked it when he ran his tongue up diagonally, so he focused mostly on doing that instead of penetrating her with his tongue, which she didn’t seem to get much out of. He wasn’t so focused, though, that he couldn’t notice the way she shook from hips to knees and failed to squeeze her legs together, or the way she moved her paws to his ears, somewhere between rubbing and tugging. It felt amazing, and he groaned against her, and she responded by going rigid, her strong abdominals clenching, her knees squeezing around his head. She held that for several seconds while her vaginal fluids seemed to build up, and her eyes were so tightly closed that he wondered if she could even see the lights through her lids.

She breathed, and looked at him, and it was like magic. He felt heavy and hot and so painfully turned on he could hardly stand it. He wanted to stay between her thighs for hours. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted her to be inside him. He wanted her.

“Come up here,” she said, sounding almost imperious, and of course he obeyed, because who wouldn’t when faced with an opportunity like that? Nick kissed his way up Judy’s body, making her wiggle and sigh, and when he was level with her head he pulled her closer, closer, desperate to feel more of her against him. She squirmed in the exact right way, feeling almost liquid in his arms — no surprise, he’d just spent an indeterminate amount of time tasting her, watching her, and he’d been right that she was gorgeous when she came — and he pressed his lips to her collarbones before taking a chance and gently scraping her pulse point with the tip of one eyetooth. She made a pleased noise, something between a hum and a proper moan, and he thought he might spontaneously combust.

“I don’t know if-” Here, he had to pause, because she did _something_ with her knee that made his testicles feel _amazing._ “If I’m too big for you.”

“If you are, we’ll adapt,” she promised, lust in her voice. He believed it. Judy was a go-getter. She kissed his forehead and said, “Why don’t you turn over. Let me do the work; that way I’ll be able to tell you if I can take you. And either way I can take care of you.”

Nick’s prior sexual encounters had largely been the same, Nick hovering over whoever he was dating at the time and pounding away, making sure to stimulate them enough that they came before he did. He supposed it was because most mammals preferred to do less work, and the so-called “missionary position” was an easy one for females. This was new, and he liked the idea a lot. He liked a take-charge mammal. He obliged, rolling onto his back on the wolf-sized Queen bed and pulling her to land on top of him. She nibbled at his chest a little and he whimpered.

_So good._

Judy reached over and took a foil packet and a bottle from the nightstand, items she had dug out of a side pocket of her bag before their scene. For a moment, he got to watch as she carefully rolled a condom onto him; then, he got to _feel_ as she poured a bit of lubricant onto her paws and slathered it onto him, slicking the outside of the condom. No sense in wasting the natural lubricant from their cunnilingus session on harsh sensations if they could make it easier for her. She positioned herself above him, the tip of his penis just barely touching her. His natural response was to buck his hips, but he refrained; that wouldn’t be good until they knew she was big enough.

Slowly, she sank down, widening her knees on either side of his hips as she did so. She stilled, and it was agony waiting for her to decide what to do next, but after a bit of time, she smiled sweetly at him and rolled her hips. Oh, it was wonderful, blissful, and she tucked her toes in so that she could rise up and sink down without tiring out her firm thighs. One of Nick’s paws went up to cup her cheek and the other went down to her clit again; this time, he used his thumb to stimulate her, minding his claws as he shifted the area diagonally across some kind of groove or...something, whatever it was, it made Judy _sing._

He lost himself in motion. With Judy pressing down and Nick pressing up with his hips, it felt like they were working together, and it was more intimate than he remembered sex ever being, and he panted and groaned and made all sorts of noises that he’d always been too embarrassed to make. Judy was different. His sounds seemed to make her more aroused, and he lost time until their combined noises swirled in his head, bright colors and heat and light and his chest was on fire and he couldn’t help himself; he came, and came hard, the release more powerful than anything he’d been able to do himself in the last couple of years. He worked her clit through the happy haze of ejaculation until she seized up again, clenching around his cock painfully and wonderfully.

She lay down on his chest, not bothering to let him out of her vagina. He didn’t mind. It was nice to stay inside her for a while.

They breathed together for what felt like forever, but definitely wasn’t. It was nice, another intimate thing. Finally, she did push herself up and off of him — he didn’t say it, but he did wish she’d stay — and crawled up to the pillow, pulling his head to her chest. One of her paws went to the back of his head and the other took his paw. She didn’t lace their fingers together, but instead just clasped their palms together. It was nice too. He felt special — priceless, even — in her embrace.

“Thank you,” she sighed happily after they had cuddled for a while. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” he agreed. He smiled into her chest and let the words come, because it was safe for him to do so. “This wasn’t _exactly_ the scenario I had in mind, but it’s great. You’re great. Everything about you is great. I'm glad it was you they tried to hire."

“You...really don’t mind that I’m a sex worker? That before I became a dominatrix, I did sleep with my clients?”

“Of course not! Judy, I just benefited from all that training and practice. Only an idiot wouldn’t be _thrilled_ about that,” he said firmly, only halfway serious but still truthful. Experience usually made for a better, more confident lover. “But...can I ask how you got into it?”

“Not going to try to talk me out of it, are you,” she asked, but she didn’t sound worried. She was definitely joking.

“No, but I do want to know why you chose this. You were a cop, once upon a time. Out of all the careers you could have chosen, why not something closer to police work?”

“Sometimes you want to help make the world a better place, and you find a way to do it on a smaller scale,” she told him softly, running her fingers through his headfur. It felt so good. _She_ felt so good. Curled up together like this, he felt safe, too, in a way that he usually didn’t when he was in bed with someone. “Police work didn’t work out. I lost everything to a case that went bad. Sex work helped me heal, and it gave me purpose. Now that I’m strictly a dominatrix and I don’t sleep with my clients, the niche I’ve found does allow me to help mammals in a bigger way. My clients come to me for discipline. I help them get their lives in order.”

“It must have been a hard case, to chase you away from the field completely,” he commented.

“It was.” She kissed his brow. “Good mammals died. But this is terrible pillow talk, Nick. Just let me hold you for a bit. You really wore me out. I’m benefiting from your experience too.”

A bit sarcastically, he asked, “So I’m a good boy?”

“Of course you’re a good boy. The very best. It’s part of why I love you.”

It was a little surprising to find out that he really, _really_ liked being called a good boy, but that was mostly lost behind the thrill of being told he was loved. Judy loved him. She loved him! He brought her free paw up to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I love you, Judy. You-”

The timer went off. The time they were allowed to have the room was nearly up.

Judy grumbled and stretched her legs out, letting go of Nick. He wasn’t happy about having to get up, but they had only had the room for three hours and negotiations had taken up 30 minutes. Along with the 30 or so minutes of pain play and the...however long they had spent on sex and the afterglow, they only had about 15 minutes left to do a basic cleanup, pack up the gear, and get out before management either kicked them out or charged them extra.

...Was it worth it? No, probably not. It wasn’t his card on file.

He slid off the bed and grabbed the towel from the chair. It was less than ideal, but it would do until he could grab a shower at home. After peeling off the condom and throwing it in the trash, he carefully wiped his ejaculate and the lube away and, equally carefully, pulled on his boxers. He was sensitive in front and in back. Next went his pants, and although he could hear Judy grunting behind him over the sound of fabric, he didn’t turn around; he knew he would get distracted. Once he had buttoned his pale green Tommy Bapawma shirt and slung his tie around his neck, though, he _did_ turn around to see—

Well, there was that sweet little pink gingham shirt and the jeans that made her hips look fabulous. “Do you always bring a change of clothes to a session?”

“I don’t want to walk home in those ridiculous heels, even if I _do_ like being taller,” she replied with a smile, squatting down to zip up her duffel bag. Her clothes were likely in the duffel and the ruined sheet had disappeared somewhere, hopefully into an isolated place instead of somewhere it could ruin her toys.

“That’s actually fair.” He finished tying a loose knot in his tie, and she stepped close to him, pulling the back of it down to tighten the knot around his neck. It was nicely intimate. “I never thought I’d see you in a corset.”

“They’re not the most comfortable, but it’s basically a uniform, so I wear it for my clients. You’re not a client though...speaking of which, your friends paid for three hours. That's a lot of money,” she told him, tugging on his tie once more before patting his chest. “I imagine they will be glad to have it back.”

“Are you kidding me?” He grinned and pulled a large wad of bills out of his wallet, which had been in his pocket. “I don't see why we both shouldn't keep it. After all, it _is_ my birthday, and you _did_ give me a great night.”

“Nick! That's stealing!”

He shook his head. He was busy counting cash, but he had enough of a mind to add, “It's a loophole. It's called a hustle, Sweetheart.”

She went up on her toes, tugged on his shirt, and gave him a kiss on the cheek that he willingly and gratefully accepted. “Then I guess it's only fair. You participated in my world; now I get to participate in yours.”

He gently folded her half into the top of her jeans and grinned as a shudder ran through her. In a breathy tone, she warned, “If you keep up that kind of thing, I'll have to drag you back to bed.”

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall I do,” he said playfully, and traced the shell of her ear with a claw-tip. As her eyes closed blissfully, he concluded, “I guess we'll just have to go home together and make use of _my_ bed.”

“I have some pretty interesting toys under mine,” she mentioned casually, and yep. Definitely going to her place.

 

The next day, when Nick met up with Finnick and Ian, he took great pleasure at playing up the flinching as he sat down, feeling the bruises on his thighs and the lines across his back. It was a warm reminder of his night — and his future — with Judy. He felt like a million bucks, and not even Finnick's smug could make a dent.

“Thanks for the gift,” he said genuinely, hiding his gratitude behind a smile that probably looked more sarcastic than anything. “My life is forever altered. So much so, in fact, that I feel the need to tell you everything she did to me. In detail. Over and over.”

The horrified look on their faces was priceless.

**Author's Note:**

> I may add another chapter or two to this someday, which is why I tagged it with the age reversal even though it doesn't really matter in this chapter. Think of it as finished for now though.


End file.
